Deck the Halls (Holiday Classics)

by Mary Higgins Clark

  Regan sighed. “My mother has written so many books, even she forgets the details of plots from twenty years ago. I’m trying to think how that one ended.”

  Alvirah knew. The kidnap victim had never been heard from again.

  They exited the FDR Drive at Seventy-first Street and parked the car on First Avenue. Entering the hospital, they passed the gift shop on the way to the elevator. Inside they could see that Lucy was on duty. She and Regan exchanged glances, and Lucy waved.

  “Still here,” Lucy called out.

  “She’s the one you talked to this morning about the teddy bear, isn’t she?” Alvirah asked.

  “Yes.”

  In the elevator up to Nora’s room, Alvirah made a mental note to drop in on Lucy on the way out. Sometimes you don’t know how much you know, she told herself. Maybe if I talk to her, I can jiggle that girl’s brain a bit. It’s worth trying.

  Regan opened the door of the room. Nora, Sister Cordelia, and Willy greeted her and Alvirah with expressions of stunned disbelief.

  “What?” Regan asked through suddenly dry lips. “Did you hear something about Dad?”

  “Jack just called here,” Nora said. “He didn’t want to tie up your cell phone. He thinks there’s a good chance you’ll be getting another call very soon.”

  “About finding Dad and Rosita?” Regan asked, somehow knowing the answer.

  “No.” Nora paused. “The Harbor Police just plucked the duffel bag with the million dollars out of the East River.”

  “Oh my God,” Regan gasped.

  Nora’s face was ashen. “Jack thinks it means one of two things. Either they dropped it by mistake—which would be good—or for some reason they panicked because they suspected there was a tracking device in it.” Her voice rose sharply. “Regan, if we get a second chance with these people, there’s going to be nothing but money in the bag.”

  “Mom, the only reason for using the tracking device was in the hope that they would take the money to where they’re keeping Dad and Rosita. You know that.”

  They all knew that, but Regan could see the same fear on all the faces around her that she was sure was on her own. Whether it was a bungled ransom drop or a deliberate discarding of the money, it meant that her father and Rosita were in the hands of some very unhappy abductors.

  “You were kissing your boat good-bye?!” C.B. howled as he drove up First Avenue. “You couldn’t do it while you were waiting for Regan Reilly? You could have smothered it with kisses!”

  “Would you turn up the heater? I think I caught a chill in that river.” Petey sneezed. “See?”

  C.B. punched the steering wheel. “You had the million dollars in your hands and you let it go.”

  “No use crying over spilled milk,” Petey said. “I could have drowned, you know. Did you ever think about that?”

  “Did you ever think about the fact we have no money, we have two hostages on our hands, and . . .”

  “We should have set up a petty-cash fund for their food. I had to fork over six bucks for . . .”

  “Petty-cash fund! You just lost us a million dollars!” C.B.’s throat was starting to hurt from the strain of shouting.

  “We’ll figure a way to get it back,” Petey said optimistically.

  “Just what do you suggest?” C.B. asked, his voice dropping to a dangerously low level.

  “Good question.”

  “Do you think maybe we should call Regan Reilly and tell her what a bumbling idiot you are?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Do you think we should get on that plane to Brazil with barely enough money for a week’s vacation?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Do you think we should release Reilly and Rosita, and then have a beer with them at Elsie’s?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “It’s hard to think when I’m cold.” Petey leaned back and reached for the trash bag on the backseat. “Being that we don’t need this anymore, I’m going to use it to try and get warm.” He started ripping it at the seams.

  “I had thought of everything,” C.B. moaned. “I knew that they’d be able to come up with the million bucks. I knew that they’d probably call the cops. I knew that there’d almost certainly be a tracking device attached somewhere to the bag. I read a lot of mysteries, you know.”

  “Reading is important,” Petey said approvingly.

  “ . . . I would have dumped the money from the duffel bag into that trash bag, which I would now like to wrap around your neck. And that duffel bag should now be lying in the middle of 111th Street instead of floating around the East River.”

  Petey shifted in his seat, the trash bag crinkling around him. “Wait a minute. You think they called the cops?”

  “Of course. They always call the cops.”

  “That irritates me. We asked her not to, right?” Petey complained. “You should let her know that when you talk to her.”

  C.B. gave him a withering look, but then his eyes narrowed. The best defense is a good offense, he thought, as an idea began to form in his mind.

  Shortly after 8:30, Jack Reilly joined Regan, Alvirah, Willy, and Cordelia in Nora’s hospital room.

  “I understand that I was a big help to my husband’s kidnappers,” Nora said.

  “Apparently you were,” Jack agreed. “I’ve got a little more information,” he told them, “but not as much as I’d like. A boat was found tied to the pier at 111th Street. We’re pretty sure it was abandoned by the kidnappers. It’s on its way to the lab now. That was also probably the place where the bag with the money went into the water.”

  “How would you know that?” Sister Cordelia asked.

  “It was at that point that the guys on the aircraft tracking the bag of money realized it had switched directions and started heading north.”

  “Did the boat have any markings?” Regan asked.

  “None. And it’s obviously a rebuilt motor, which means it probably can’t be traced. We’re hoping for fingerprints.”

  There was a moment of silence. Everyone understood that the next move was up to the kidnappers.

  Sister Cordelia squeezed Nora’s hand. “It’s time we let you get some rest. We’ll keep praying.”

  “I’m glad you were here,” Nora said sincerely. She looked at Willy. “I can’t believe you made me laugh.”

  He smiled at her. “I’m saving my best stories for when you feel better.”

  Alvirah turned to Regan. “Now keep me posted. Call at any hour. I’m going to do some homework with those tapes.”

  Jack had given her a cassette with all the calls from the kidnappers Eagle base had taped. “This might not be orthodox, but after what happened today, I don’t care,” he had said. “Alvirah, next time you try to tell me something, I swear I’ll listen.”

  The doctor came in as Alvirah, Willy, and Cordelia were leaving. He obviously knew there was a personal problem of some kind but did not probe. “How’s that leg feeling?” he asked.

  “Not the best,” Nora admitted, the weariness in her eyes clearly visible. Reluctantly she agreed to take a painkiller.

  Regar was sure that if her mother were left alone, she’d fall asleep. “Mom, I’m going to run downstairs and get a cup of coffee. I won’t be long. Can I bring you back anything?”

  “No, but you should eat something.”

  Jack walked out with Regan. “Okay if I join you for that coffee?”

  Once in the cafeteria, Jack prevailed on Regan to have a sandwich.

  “We’re certainly keeping you from enjoying the holidays,” Regan said. “I can’t believe tomorrow is Christmas Eve. You must have had plans.”

  “My family will still be there when I get home. My parents live in Bedford, and that’s where the whole clan will be this week. There are so many of us, they won’t even notice I haven’t shown up yet.”

  Regan smiled. “Being an only child, if I don’t show up it’s noticeable.”

  Jack laughed.
“If you were one of ten, it would be noticeable.”

  That remark would have snapped my mother awake, Regan thought, smiling. Kind of wakes me up too.

  They talked about what the kidnappers might do next.

  “My biggest fear is that absolutely nothing will happen next,” Regan admitted.

  “Regan, keep in mind that you talked to your father and Rosita less than three hours ago,” Jack said.

  “Those few words my father said keep running through my mind. He mentioned reading my favorite book to me when I was a little girl. I thought at the time he was just being nostalgic, like last night when my mother was reminiscing about when they were newlyweds.” She shook her head. “But now I’m not so sure. I have a feeling he was trying to tell me something.”

  “What was your favorite book?” Jack asked.

  “For the life of me, I can’t remember.” Restlessly Regan tapped her hands on the table. “Maybe my father brought it up because my mother and Imus talked about children’s books this morning.”

  “More than likely that’s all it was. But you know as well I do that kidnap victims often try to pass messages if they possibly can.”

  “Oh, it’s you two again!” The call came from across the room.

  They looked up to see Lucy from the gift shop bearing down on them.

  “Can’t get enough of each other, huh?” Her eyes darted around. “I always take a walk through here before I go home. As usual, no Dr. Kildares in sight.” She shrugged. “What are you going to do? Say, your mother must be some stickler for writing thank-you notes. One of her friends was just in the shop, asking about the guy who bought the teddy bear.”

  Regan and Jack looked at each other. “Alvirah,” they said in unison.

  Willy and Cordelia were waiting for Alvirah on a couch in the lobby when she emerged from the gift shop.

  “Well, I did find something out,” she reported.

  “What did you learn, honey?” Willy asked.

  “The man who sent that teddy bear with Luke Reilly’s picture was carrying a Long’s shopping bag.”

  “You knew that.”

  “Yes, but Lucy—that’s the clerk’s name—remembered something else. There was a red jacket or sweater, or at least some sort of red clothing, in the bag.”

  “So?” Cordelia asked.

  “Oh, I know it’s not much, but it’s something,” Alvirah said, sighing. “Maybe it will help jog the memory of the salesclerk at Long’s when I talk to her tomorrow.”

  Cordelia was going home.

  Alvirah and Willy put her in a cab, then hailed one for themselves. “Two-eleven Central Park South,” Willy said.

  Even though it was late and the temperature was steadily dropping, the streets were filled with people. When the cab reached the area of the Plaza Hotel, Alvirah remarked wistfully, “It always looks so festive around here during the holidays. ‘ ’Tis the season to be jolly,’ and all that.” She shook her head as she remembered the sadness in Nora’s eyes.

  When they got home, she changed into her favorite old robe, made a pot of tea, and settled at the dining room table. I began the day with this and I’ll finish the day with this, she thought as she turned on her recorder.

  She listened to all the tapes, playing them in the order they had been recorded. First, the original call from the kidnappers, then the conversation with Fred Torres at Rosita’s home. She replayed that tape twice, each time stopping at one point. “Probably doesn’t mean a thing, but it’s worth asking him about,” she said aloud as she jotted a phrase on her memo pad.

  Willy joined her as she was playing the tapes of the kidnapper giving directions to Regan.

  “What impression are you getting of that guy?” Alivrah asked.

  “He’s disguising his voice,” Willy said. “He’s smart enough to get off the phone fast, so his location can’t be traced. He planned that ransom drop mighty carefully.”

  “He was smart enough to realize the plot Nora used could work for him, and it did to a point. Now listen to this one.” She played the tape of the call in which Luke and Rosita spoke to Regan as she started driving into Central Park.

  “Hear anything special?” she asked Willy.

  “It’s not as clear as the calls that came after it.”

  “That’s right. The reception isn’t as good. That’s probably because of the location where they’re being kept. You know, there can be a lot of interference in some areas.” Alvirah played the tape again. “Did you notice anything about what Luke Reilly said?”

  “Well, the poor guy’s obviously reminiscing about his life. I did that when I was kidnapped. And . . .”

  “And what?”

  “He kind of puts a big emphasis on the word ‘see.’ It’s almost like he’s trying to tell her something.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,”

  Willy glanced at the pad. “What’s that mean?” He pointed to a notation she had made.

  “It’s something I want to run by Fred Torres tomorrow. Rosita told him that Luke Reilly always ‘kept his cool.’ I want to find out if Rosita talked about any specific situation where he had to ‘keep his cool.’ ” She looked at her watch. “It’s eleven o’clock, and still no word from Regan. That means she hasn’t heard from the kidnappers.”

  “Maybe they’re trying to figure out their next move,” Willy suggested.

  “Then they better figure it out soon. What worries me is that the longer Luke Reilly is missing, the more likely that word of his kidnapping will get out. If it ends up in the headlines, God knows what will happen.”

  C.B. did not attempt to hide the situation from Luke and Rosita. When he and Petey arrived back at the houseboat, he told them exactly what had happened.

  “You can’t make this stuff up,” Rosita said, glaring at Petey as he went into the bedroom to change out of his wet suit.

  “You actually used a scenario from my wife’s book for the ransom drop?” Luke asked incredulously.

  “It almost worked,” Petey called from the bedroom. “Has she got any other kidnapping stories we could take a look at?” He poked his head out the door. “We can’t miss our flight tomorrow night. The planes are overbooked.”

  “I’ve read all her novels,” C.B. said shortly. “She doesn’t have any other kidnappings.”

  Oh yes she does, Luke thought. The other one had come to mind only a few weeks ago when he had business in Queens and took the wrong turn coming out of the Queens-Midtown Tunnel. He had found himself on the same route she’d used for a ransom drop in one of her early short stories. He remembered it because Nora had been pregnant with Regan when she wrote that story, and since she had been ordered to stay in bed, he had driven around and checked out the route she was planning for the kidnappers to use.

  “What do you intend to do now?” he asked C.B.

  “At some point I’m going to call your daughter and tell her she’d better be able to come up with another million dollars. Unless, of course, the cops have already recovered our money from the East River.”

  There was a note of desperation in his voice. They have to get out tomorrow night, Luke thought, and they can’t go without the money. “When you put me on the phone again, I’ll tell my daughter to be sure to get it for you.”

  “You bet you will. But first I’ve got to figure out a new place for her to leave it,” C.B. blustered.

  It’s worth a shot, Luke thought. By now, Nora must have realized that they had used a ransom-drop location that was in one of her books. This time, would she think about that short story and talk to the cops about it?

  It was probably crazy. A one-in-a-million shot, if not totally hopeless. But like his earlier effort to convey to Regan that they were in the vicinity of the GW Bridge and the lighthouse, it at least made him feel as if he was doing something to try and save their lives.

  “You know, C.B.” he began, his tone friendly, “a couple of weeks ago I had to pick up the remains of a client’s grandmother from a
small nursing home in Queens. When I came through the Midtown Tunnel and exited on Borden Avenue on the Queens side, I got lost. In only a few blocks, I found myself in a totally deserted area right underneath the Long Island Expressway. If I were planning a kidnapping, I think I’d use that area for a ransom drop. Check it out yourself and you’ll see what I mean.”

  C.B.’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you being so helpful?”

  “Because I want to get out of here. The sooner you have the money, the sooner you’ll make the call telling them where to find us.”

  “I feel better,” Petey announced as he emerged from the bedroom in a sweat suit. “Nothing like a dry change of clothes.” He pulled a Mountain Dew out of the tiny refrigerator. “I heard what you were saying, Mr. Reilly. You’re really using the old noodle. I know exactly where you’re talking about. I got lost there, too, on my way to a job. I wasn’t going to pick up a stiff though.” He turned to C.B. “It’s perfect. We’d be nice and near the airport. They get mad if you don’t check in at least two hours before flight time. Sometimes they give your seat away. It happened to my cousin—”

  “Petey!” C.B. shrieked.

  “Oh, leave him alone,” Rosita said. “I’d love to hear the rest of the story.”

  Luke could tell that C.B. was mulling the suggestion of the drop site over in his mind.

  C.B. reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. On it he had printed the step-by-step directions he had given Regan earlier. He turned the paper over. “Okay, Mr. Reilly, fire away. Petey and I are going to take a drive tonight and see if you’re as smart as your wife.”

  “Go back out in that cold?” Petey protested.

  Luke gave C.B. the directions, then said, “Before you go, you’d better call my daughter and let her start arranging to get the money. And give her a break. She’s got to be worried.”

  “Let her worry.”

  * * *

  It was nearly midnight before C.B. and Petey returned to the houseboat. Rosita had dozed off, but Luke was wide awake. Over and over in his mind, he had been revising the few words he would be allowed to say to Regan when the next call was made.